


Stray Dogs

by autoschediastic, Ponderosa



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Cross-Generation Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/pseuds/autoschediastic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy cracks half a grin. Harry’s look could peel him to the bone and that means something all right. Posh suit, posh taxi, it figures the guy’d like a bit of talking dirty to go along with. “S’alright if I suck you off here, yeah? More fun than waitin’ to get to your place.” He nods at the driver. “Bet you he won’t mind.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Dogs

The name Harry Hart doesn’t mean a thing, but the man who gave Eggsy that ugly medal has been a half-remembered face in his head for more than half his life. He would’ve thought he dreamt it up one night except for how his mum gets on when she sees the damn thing. She never says a word about it, same as she doesn’t say a word about his dad when he asks, but it ain’t like she goes out of her way to hide her feelings, neither. 

No respectable man hangs ‘round outside the police station, not when he can be inside rubbing elbows with the right sorts. And if Harry I-Knew-Your-Father-Hart ain’t a lawyer, Eggsy’s not so sure he wants to know. While nobody with a badge has ever done him any favours, neither has anybody in a suit and tie if he’s not counting paying out when the time comes.

He doesn’t think Harry’s here to pay anybody.

Harry glances at the fancy double-clasp watch on his wrist. “I do apologize, Eggsy, but I really haven’t all day to stand about.” He pushes away from the wall and strolls on by, stopping at the curb one arm outstretched like he’s posing for glossies or something. A sleek black taxi pulls up a moment later. “Come along.”

“Yeah,” says Eggsy slowly, eying the sharp-cut lines of Harry’s body while he stands there waiting. Eggsy doesn’t know shit about suits, but he knows this one ain’t the type that forgives a soft gut and sloping shoulders, and he for sure knows fancy silk ties and perfect hair always look better after a bit of a go. “Alright.”

“Excellent.” Harry gestures smoothly at the leather interior. “After you.”

Eggsy clambers in and glances around while settling into a comfortable sprawl. Old booze in even older looking crystal decanters, wood paneling, smart little telly with a remote and everything--nice setup for a hired car. Not a lawyer, Eggsy decides, but he makes as much money as one. 

Harry slides in, sitting back with his legs crossed. The driver pulls seamlessly into traffic without a word. “Would you like a drink?”

“Nah, thanks.” Eggsy bounces his knee, looks around again. By now he’d usually have a pretty good idea of what part he’s supposed to play. When he’s got his head on straight, it’s simple enough to put on one kind of show or another, but Harry isn’t so easy to get a read on as the usual posh arseholes Eggsy’s come across. Probably that’s got something to do with whatever strings he pulled to get Eggsy bounced. 

Harry’s gaze is steady on him. “Is there something you’d like to ask me, Eggsy?”

Eggsy cracks half a grin. Harry’s look could peel him to the bone and that means something all right. Posh suit, posh taxi, it figures the guy’d like a bit of talking dirty to go along with. “S’alright if I suck you off here, yeah? More fun than waitin’ to get to your place.” He nods at the driver. “Bet you he won’t mind.” Safer in the long run, too. Whether it’s a man like Dean or a man like Harry, never be alone with ‘em if there’s another way.

“What about you?” Harry asks, and for a second Eggsy’s wondering if that means Harry’s gonna get a mouthful of him instead. Ain’t something so common in his experience, but old poofs were like that he’d heard, hungry for a bit of cock. Harry might be a pervert but he’s a fit pervert, and Eggsy’s never turned down a blowjob; he grins at the thought of spunk smeared on Harry’s glasses. “You have no objections to such a transaction?”

Eggsy shrugs. “Don’t bother me none. Fair’s fair and all.”

“Indeed.” 

Eggsy figures he can either waste time trying to puzzle out what the hell went into those two clipped syllables, or he can get on with it, and the little bit of stiff in his pants ain’t too keen on waiting. He scoots across the slick leather and licks his lips wet, digging under that suit jacket to get at Harry’s fly.

For a moment he thinks he’s read everything all wrong. Harry isn’t moving, just watching him with hawk eyes. And yeah, that churn in his gut is disappointment; he’d wanted to see what kind of man is Harry Hart under all that polish. 

But then those mile-long legs uncross and it’s like Christmas fucking morning as he makes damn quick work of Harry’s zipper, shoving a hand straight in to push aside the tails of Harry’s shirt and lift Harry’s cock free. That it’s mostly soft in his hand ain’t much a bother; he licks his lips again, good and wet like he’s on camera, and flings Harry a smart little grin before he stuffs it in his mouth. A man all spiffed like Harry is probably thinking some shit like minus ten points for lack of flair, but even so there isn’t much Eggsy’s got to be sorry about for long. Feels good having a cock thickening up right on his tongue. Feels good for Harry too, he imagines. He gives a little suck to help ol’ Harry along, and a moan to match when he’s got to open his mouth wider to keep it in.

It takes a while; the old man doesn’t get sprung like Eggsy’s mates when he’s giving them a quickie. He don’t make much noise, neither--just these quiet, steady breaths without a hitch. Wedging an elbow against Harry’s thigh, Eggsy doubles down on it, cheeks hollowed. He holds there for a good few seconds, working his throat against the head to get Harry going already. No surprise that he chokes on it a bit, ‘cause it’s not like he’s used to a nice fat one getting bigger once he’s got it in that deep, and maybe he plays it up a bit with an eye on Harry to see if he’s one of _those_ types.

Harry gives him nothing, not even a twitch of the leg. He eases up slightly, second guessing this whole thing again. Sucking off strangers without a condom isn’t a particularly good call even if they did help avoid a court date.

Harry’s brow lifts. “Do go on,” he says, like maybe he thinks that’s the best Eggsy's got. Well, fuck him and his perfect fucking hair. Eggsy screws his eyes shut and swallows, shifting so he’s got more leverage to bob his head nice and fast. His hat gets knocked askew so he bats it away, figuring Harry will like the view anyway. The rub of Harry’s cock over his lips and tongue is better when it’s thick hard flesh finally stretching his mouth to the limit. 

A jolt goes through him as a hand lights on his shoulder, the touch overwhelmingly polite. He shifts under it, not entirely aware that he wants so desperately for Harry to move his hand until long fingers slip towards his collar and beneath, the touch at the nape of his neck soft and cool. He shivers and sucks hard at the head for a brief second, swallowing only when a thumb brushes his throat. That gets a noise out of Harry at least, even if it’s not much more than a breath slightly heavier than the last.

Eggsy can’t help wondering how this’d be different if they had gone back to Harry’s place. More comfortable, that’s for sure, but would Harry still be so fucking _quiet_? He fists the base of Harry’s cock, tugs that tight foreskin down until he can lick the whole bare head. Down here even a man like Harry Hart for his fancy cologne and expensive brandy tastes pretty much like every other cock Eggsy’s had shoved in his mouth, the salt-sharp tang of sweat and the juice leaking onto his tongue. The thought makes Eggsy stretch a grin around Harry’s cock, makes him flick a glance up to see if Harry’s in on the joke.

But Harry’s watching him same as before, steady and sharply focused. He’s got a bit of a flush on his cheeks but his mouth’s a thin line.

Eggsy pulls off and works the ache in his jaw out, taking over sloppily with his fist. His gaze snaps back to Harry’s mouth. Kissing might shake him up more, and Eggsy considers taking a handful of that fancy tie and pulling him right into a wet one. “Didn’t think you were gonna keep up for a minute there, bruv,” Eggsy says, and sticks his tongue out to bounce the head of Harry’s cock off it a couple times before giving it another good long lick.

“Are you so gracious with all your partners, Eggsy?” 

Eggsy shrugs. “Thought you were lookin’ for some gratitude.”

Harry’s fingers slip under his chin, tipping his face up to get a better look at him, the redness of his mouth; ‘course he’d want to have a good look. That’s what Eggsy figures is going on anyways, until the touch turns oddly tender, his face cupped in Harry’s palm. “Debts must be paid,” Harry says, all matter-of-fact at odds with gentle fingertips at Eggsy’s temple, and then he’s hands-off again. He settles his arm on the door, that look on his face again like he’s waiting for Eggsy to do something, anything, that ain’t just having the guts to suck his cock back in deep as it can go.

He’s got this nagging voice in his head saying Harry didn’t find whatever he was looking for staring down at Eggsy like that, even though Eggsy knows he’s a damn good sight right now. He knows too that he don’t take much after his father, not in looks and sure as shit not in life, but he’s still here, ain’t he? Doin’ just fuckin’ fine, thanks very much.

He don’t owe no one nothing, and he sure as shit ain’t going to owe Harry fucking Hart. Eggsy lowers his head again, a simmering sort of anger overtaking the uneasiness that’d been spreading through his guts. Harry expects a bit of rough and that’s just what he’s gonna get: rough hand on his cock right proper and a rough mouth too, remind him stray dogs with tails stuck between their legs still got teeth.

If Harry’s up there eyes on him or the scenery scrolling by, Eggsy doesn’t care. His focus is on Harry’s cock and unlike the snobby fucker, it’s letting him know exactly how good a job he’s doing, nice and thick and leaking heavily into his mouth. He lets most of the spit and slick seep back down the full length of it, caught up by his fist to smear all over his chin. His tongue’s starting to feel a little raw like his lips, but he keeps going, moaning freely at rush of flavour as Harry blows it cause what does he care if some rich prat knows he likes a right big mouthful of it.

He works Harry straight through it, gagging a bit as he fights the urge to swallow as his mouth fills. He’s got a blurry eye on leaving Harry with a good stain on his trousers like one of them markers turned in after a debt’s paid. He never gets a chance. A flick of Harry’s wrist snaps out a snow white handkerchief, slim fingers guiding it to catch the mess drooling out of the corners of his mouth. Eggsy swallows some of it, then pulls off with a gasp to leave more for Harry to tidy up.

“We square?” he asks, tonguing at the edge of his lip.

Harry offers the hankie. Eggsy gives him a raised eyebrow of his own but takes it, scrubbing his mouth clean with a few sloppy swipes. If he’s waiting with his face turned up for Harry’s stamp of approval, well, that’s just ‘cause Harry gave him the handkerchief in the first place. 

“If we had gone to my place,” Harry says, not a hair out of place as he gestures at the tent pitched in Eggsy’s trackies, “I could’ve taken care of that for you. But here we are.” On cue, the taxi comes to a smooth stop. Eggsy glances out the window at the Black Prince. There’s nobody on the benches or at the corner but he shoves off Harry’s lap anyways, pocketing the watch he nicked off Harry’s wrist under cover of snatching up his cap. Last thing he needs is Dean figuring his smart mouth is good for something after all. 

Harry opens the door and slides out, stepping aside to hold it not much like a gentleman that just got sucked off in the back of a taxi. Or maybe that’s exactly what a gentleman does for all Eggsy knows, keeps fresh hankies on hand for spunk and holds doors for rent boys.

As Eggsy’s kicks hit concrete, Harry says, “I seem to have lost track of the time,” and Eggsy’s gut hits the ground right beside ‘em. “A hand, Eggsy?”

Eggsy eyeballs the hand hovering in front of his face. Could’ve been a backhand Harry offered as easy as a leg up, but it doesn’t look much like Harry’s taking the piss. Eggsy thinks about asking how he caught on to the lift but keeps his mouth shut for once, ignoring the flush creeping up the back of his neck as he puts his hand in Harry’s, watch tucked between their palms. 

Harry discreetly returns the watch to his wrist. “Let’s get a pint, shall we?”


End file.
